


Bittersweet

by twilightstargazer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, aka the trope I will always write no matter what, where they pretend they don't have feelings but they have a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightstargazer/pseuds/twilightstargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He only has to take one look at her face to know what’s coming next. Knows as soon as she pulls her plump bottom lip into her mouth and her eyes lose their hardness only to be replaced with a new kind of fire.</p><p>or,</p><p>The one where Clarke and Bellamy have sex in the forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itwasprongs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itwasprongs/gifts).



> Because almost 5k of two of your favourite characters gettin’ it on the woods is the new friendship bracelet. Obviously.

Clarke comes back just as winter finally starts to release its icy hold on the camp, and, well, Bellamy is at a complete loss as to how to be around her again after all this time.

(He’s both angry at her, for leaving, and at himself, for still harbouring this stupid little crush because it’s been months and what the actual fuck.)

So he does the only thing he can do; hold her at an arm’s length and ignore her when possible. It all seems to be working out pretty well until she snaps and drags him out into the woods for the argument that has been building from the moment he set eyes on her again.

Neither of them knows how they went from screaming at each other all up in the other’s face, to Clarke biting down on his bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood. They don’t know how Bellamy ended up on his back in the grass, half naked, and Clarke on top him in pretty much the same state. They don’t know how angry yells turned into muffled groans and how his fingers end up between her thighs, working her to completion only to have her sink down on top him a few moments after she’s come.

And they certainly don’t know how to stop.

* * *

 

That was back at the end of winter and now it was nearly summer, the air hot and dry and everyone was coated in a layer of almost permanent stickiness. While the hostility between them has dwindled greatly, it doesn’t stop them from arguing in the corners of the Ark, sometimes in sniping at each other in hushed tones and sometimes full on shouting with just centimetres between them.

(They continue fucking too whenever they got a chance because why not? It was a goddamn miracle that it’s been going on for so long and they’ve yet to have been caught.)

This time they’re out in the woods, heading off to a meeting with a fairly peaceful clan of grounders far up north. Originally, it was just supposed to be him and Clarke, but Abby decided to send along two more guards for extra protection and he’s not too sure if he’s grateful or saddened of the fact.

He is sure about how Clarke feels about it, considering she’s hissing and snapping at them all as soon as they started they started on their little journey. She feels it’s a waste of resources and while Bellamy can agree with her on that point, he also knows that Abby sent them to make sure he comes back home with her daughter unlike last time.

Bellamy agrees to take first watch, and the other guards don’t say a thing, just put down their packs while Clarke glares from the sidelines and within a few minutes they’re out like a light.

“This is a waste of time and you know it,” she hisses, stomping over to where he leant against a tree a few paces away, observing their surroundings. “They don’t even know the terrain that well; they’ll just slow us down.”

“They know the terrain well enough,” he frowns, barely sparing her a glance.

“Sure they do,” Clarke rolls her eyes, “It’s purely coincidental that they kept tripping over tree roots.”

Bellamy heaves a sigh, letting his rifle slide off his shoulder to rest gently on the ground as he crosses his arms. “If you want to have this fight, then you should have done it with your mother before we left.”

“Because you had no say in this at all,” she spits.

“Actually I didn’t. For some reason your mother doesn’t trust me alone with you,” he tells her, drawing his eyes away from her face to stare up at the sky, “Can’t imagine why.”

A beat of silence washes over them making him glance back down at her with a frown. For as long as he’s known her, he’s learnt that she always has to have the last word in everything. Of course, he only has to take one look at her face to know what’s coming next. Knows as soon as she pulls her plump bottom lip into her mouth and her eyes lose their hardness only to be replaced with a new kind of fire.

It isn’t long before she’s grabbing him by his jacket and making some sort of snappy comment that he doesn’t hear because he’s too busy pulling her forward and ducking his head to meet her lips.

Clarke always kisses like it’s a fight, all heat and passion, with her hands speared through his hair and no preamble whatsoever. He gives as good as he gets though, biting down on her lip almost hard enough to draw blood and making her whimper even as she opens her mouth to let their tongues tangle with one another. She tugs hard on his hair that she has tangled between her fingers and Bellamy nips at her in response.

A hand trails up her torso, pausing briefly to squeeze her breast through the thin material of her shirt, and Bellamy swallows her responding moan while she grapples with his belt, only to get it halfway undone before abandoning it in favour of scraping her nails across his torso. His abdominal muscles quiver as she does it once more, scrambling to push his shirt and jacket off of him all at once. The minute the offending garments hits the ground, Bellamy all but rips off her own, ducking his head briefly to suckle at the newly exposed flesh threatening to spill out of her bra.

“I don’t think this is why my mother doesn’t trust us alone,” she pants, anchoring his head firmly to her chest as he laves it with attention, “But if she ever found out, it would be at the top of her list.”

Bellamy’s light chuckle against the top of her breast does interesting things to her body that has her squirming and rubbing her thighs together. He kneads it once more, just for good measure, before spinning her around so her back was to his chest and her front pressed against a tree. She grunts as the rough bark digs into her soft skin, but arches back into him and he almost bites down on her shoulder when her ass rubs against the front of his pants.

“Then I guess we should make sure she doesn’t find out,” he mutters lowly, nipping at her ear and letting his hand sneak under the cups of her worn bra to rub gentle circles into her skin. “Got to be real quiet, Princess; guards are right over there.”

It was true; while they may have been out of sight due to the combination of the dark and overgrown shrubs, the guards that had been sent to accompany them for this trip were still only a mere thirty feet away at most, definitely within hearing range.

He gathers her tangle of blonde curls in one hand and moves it off to the side so he could trail a path of wet, open mouthed kisses down the side of her neck, smirking when he hears her muffled curse.

“I swear to god, Bellamy, if you leave any marks on me then we’re going to have problems,” she hisses, even as she tilts her head even further to the side to give him more access. He suckles at the spot under her ear in retaliation and has her biting down on her fingers to muffle her moan.

He stops immediately, eliciting a soft whine from Clarke. “None of that now,” he murmurs, gently prying her hand out of her mouth, rubbing his thumb over the spot where her teeth sunk in.

Ever so slowly, he gathers both her wrists in one of his hands and pins them above her head while the other holds her, heavy and firm around her waist. He continues to press kisses down the side of her neck, taking a moment to graze the worn elastic of her bra strap with his teeth before truly sinking them into her skin. His tongue laves the area almost immediately after he lets go, soothing the slight sting.

Clarke growls against the skin of her bicep. “Fucking hell, I told you-” she cuts herself off with a sharp gasp as the hand from her waist slides down her pants.

“What was that, Princess?” he asks smugly. She can feel his palm, large and warm, through the flimsy material of her underwear and resists the urge to grind down on it. Her legs quiver and his smirk just grows. “Didn’t quite catch what you were going to say.”

“You’re such a dick,” she huffs, before deliberately grinding backwards against his crotch. The hand holding her wrists together tighten imperceptibly and his jaw clenches, but other than that, he shows no reaction to her movements.

“And yet here we are,” he sighs, still not giving an inch and letting his hand remain there, feeling her get progressively wetter and wetter.

Clarke makes an impatient sound in the back of her throat and presses back against him again, desperate for some friction, something, anything. Her head drops against his shoulder and he takes the chance to drop a chaste kiss on her lips. “Patience Princess,” he murmurs, nose brushing against hers for a brief moment before he presses feather light kisses to her jaw.

She whimpers again, and continues to press her ass to the hardness in his jeans. “Bellamy, _please_.”

He doesn’t pull away from her jaw, or even gives her a hint of what he’s going to do when he finally gives into her, slipping a finger underneath her panties. He muffles his swear against her neck when he encounters her wetness and her cheeks flame, even as she sighs and lets herself relax against him.

He can’t do much but stroke her at this angle, lightly and teasingly, since her pants are still securely on but he’s more than happy to continue at this pace, to follow the flush on her skin with his tongue and map the contours of her neck with his lips. The whole thing has Clarke making little soft noises in the back of her throat and her breath catches when he comes close to her clit but doesn’t dare touch it. The third time he does it her resolve breaks and she rocks forward, trying to follow his hand with her hips with a frustrated groan.

“Bellamy,” she sighs, annoyed, “If you’re going to be such a fucking dick about it then maybe you should leave and let me take care of things myself.”

“Relax princess,” he says, nipping at her earlobe. He drops her wrists and undoes the snap of her jeans, pushing it down her thighs along with her underwear, but still refuses to do anything other than take his sweet time delicately tracing her folds.

“Fuck you,” she bites out through clenched teeth.

“Later,” he promises, leaning forward to pluck another kiss off her lips. Hands now free, she catches his head before he can pull away fully and kisses him, wet and dirty and almost sloppy due to the angle, while he continues to tease her below. She shivers when his free hand skirts up her torso to grope her chest, pushing her against him so that her back comes in contact with his overheated skin.

The muscles of her cunt clenches when his finger ghosts across her entrance and the way his hand flexes against the worn material of her bra shows that her reaction did not go unnoticed. It sends another wave of heat through her and she bites down hard on his lip.

Clarke is about two seconds away from telling him to stop with all the goddamn teasing when suddenly he slips a finger into her and she has to pull away from his mouth to gasp at finally getting what she needs.

Under any other circumstances, Bellamy is sure that she would have smacked his shoulder in retaliation for hit shit eating grin but right now she’s far too busy trying to catch her breath, bent forward slightly in front him to give him more room to pump his fingers. He doesn’t though, not yet at least, choosing to hold it there until she starts to squirm.

It’s only when he sees her gearing up to protest does he finally slide out, maddeningly slow, extracting a short, high pitched groan from her in return.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs approvingly, lips brushing the shell of her ear. Bellamy ducks his head to press a kiss to the back of neck as he drags his soaked finger up her slit before slowly sliding back in. “Fuck,” he says, a short burst of laughter tickling her skin, thumb lightly ghosting over her clit, “I can _hear_ how wet you are, Clarke.”

Her cheeks get even redder and she groans again, throwing her head back and almost hitting him in the process. “It’s your fault, dumbass,” she pants and Bellamy grins against her temple even as he holds his finger there like before.

“You know what I think,” he begins, voice low and gravelly in her ear as he pulls out just as slow as before, not even paying attention to her breathy moan that goes with it. “I think you didn’t want any company on this little trip of ours because you were thinking about _this_ the entire time.” He punctuates his sentence by grinding the heel of his hand hard against her clit and she nearly wails, biting down on her lip in an effort to remain silent.

“You were thinking about how I’d make you scream out in the woods, weren’t you Princess?” he asks, mouthing her ear as he begins to truly thrust his fingers in a torturously slow rhythm that gets her panting in no time. “You were thinking how there’d finally be no one to look out for when I make you fall apart with nothing but my fingers.”

Another groan drops from her lips. “Fuck Bellamy,” moans Clarke, twisting her head in effort to try and catch his mouth with hers once more. He ducks out of the way, smirk still in place, and she honestly can’t find it in herself to care, not when he finally picks up the pace, making sure to thumb her clit every so often in an effort to further drive away whatever bit of coherency she had left.

“Fuck, Clarke,” he snarks back in return, tugging on her hair so she gasps again, bucking into his hand.

She tries to swat at him for his impertinence, but her limbs a rendered useless in the state she’s in right now and her attempts are feeble at best.

When they first started doing this three months ago, Bellamy had made a quick study out of her, figuring out how to make her come almost embarrassingly fast, where to touch her just so, how to flick his wrist. It always fascinates him to see that he was the one responsible for all of this. The light sheen of sweat coating her body, the way her thighs quivered in an effort to stay open even as he teased her to the point of insanity. He was the only one responsible for driving her out of her mind and with that, he pulls her back against him, tilting his hips against hers.

Clarke squeaks at the sudden feel of rough denim against her bare ass, but Bellamy is quick to soothe her, pressing a soft kiss to the side of neck. “Easy Princess,” he murmurs. His hand drops from her hair to caress the skin of hip, rubbing soothing circles into it and presses her to him. “I got you.”

His nose bumps against her jaw and she turns her head, catching him in a kiss that’s both messy and possessive. She bites down on his lip, hard, and tugs on it until a whine slips out of his throat and his fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hips. Bellamy pulls away, only to drag his mouth down the column of her neck, licking at the sweat that’s gathered there, hand not faltering once, and she sinks her fingers in his hair, sighing. She can feel her orgasm building in the pit of her stomach to the same slow rhythm that his fingers set.

And then he cants his crotch against her ass again, forcefully, allowing her to fully feel the effect she has on him and she whimpers, even as she pushes back against him in search of that friction she desperately craved. He does it again, and this time a ragged, low groan escapes her as her walls flutter around his fingers.

“Like that, don’t you, Princess?” he whispers, smug against her skin before biting the spot beneath her jaw.

“Yes,” she gasps, struggling against his grasp so that she could follow his hips with hers. “God yes, Bellamy, I need-”

He quickly shushes her, stealing a quick kiss off her lips. “I know,” he says, the speed of his fingers picking up just a little. He makes sure to nip at her ear. “I know exactly what you need,” he promises, right before his hips grind against her ass and her breath hitches on something akin to a sob as he eyes snap shut, face screwed in pleasure.

“Bellamy, _please_.”

The pace of fingers slow to match that of his hips, the rhythm steady and dirty and hard and Clarke is thankful for the arm he has gripping her hips because there’s no way she would be able to support herself, not when all her energy is concentrated in trying to get his fingers to crook and hit that spot inside her, the one she knows has the power to finally send her over the edge and put an end to all this teasing.

He grinds the heel of his hand against her clit and she’s lost the ability to form words; it’s just a series of low, broken moans coming from the back of her throat as she struggles to keep quiet, a feat damn near impossible when his hands are touching her like that. She’s close that she grits her teeth in frustration, waiting for the final push that’ll send her through the abyss.

“You’re fucking dripping, Princess,” he tells her, thumb rubbing circles around her clit, causing her to elicit a high pitched whine that’s cut shot when she bites down on her lip again to stay quiet. “You’re always so wet, just for me.”

She’s almost writhing in his arms now and Bellamy drops his head to her shoulder. “Next time,” he growls against the matted hair at her temple, slowing his frantic rhythm once more and holding his fingers deep inside her, “I’m going to taste you,” he presses his hand harder against her clit, almost painfully, but has her whining nonetheless. “It’s been too long since I’ve done that, Princess. You miss my face between your legs, don’t you?”

She can’t even bring herself to answer because just then he finally- finally- crooks his fingers hitting that spot inside her at the end of his words, she lets go, a kaleidoscope of colour bursting behind her eyelids as she throws a hand over her mouth.

Bellamy keeps thrusting fingers, almost languidly as she rides it out, muttering about how beautiful is she looks and what a good girl she is. Eventually, when she finally comes down from her high, she becomes aware of the layer of stickiness coating her skin, the way her hair sticks uncomfortably to the back of her neck and pleasant hum running throughout her limbs which have become loose and almost jelly like. He slides his fingers out of her and Clarke turns around just in time to see him stick them in his mouth, sucking them clean.

The image sends flash of lust through her and she ducks her head to hide her growing blush, leaning her forehead against his chest. She feels the barest brush of his lips against the crown of her head and a hand comes up to card through her hair, gently petting her as she comes back to earth.

“Good?” he says, and she can hear the smirk in his voice.

She nips his chest for good measure before grinding out, “Do you even need to ask?” His responding chuckle stirs her hair, gone frizzy in the humidity, and she smacks his arm. “Dick,” she huffs before sliding her palm down into his pants and Bellamy chokes on air.

“What- what are you doing?” he manages to say as she starts sliding her hand up and down his length.

She tilts her head back up so he can see her face, and the grin she gives him is feral. Clarke leans forward until she’s right at his ear and purrs, “Returning the favour.” She sucks his earlobe in to her mouth and tugs on it with her teeth. His cock twitches in her palm and she smirks, victorious.

He lets her go on, doing whatever she wants and trying to keep his groans to minimum, even as he drops his head to her shoulder and mutters filthy things into the skin of her neck that has her growing wet once more. A hand tangles in her hair, tugging on it whenever she twists her hand and when she runs her thumb over his slit, he deftly unhooks her bra and pushes it far enough out of the way so he can finally lean down and give them the attention they truly deserve.

The bra is hooked around her elbows, hanging in space, but neither of them seem to care, not when Clarke has his dick in his hand, pumping it in steady, even strokes as she bites down on his chest while he sucks a bruise on the outside of her breast. They continue like that- her jerking him off, and he peppering her breasts in sloppy kisses while muttering swears against her skin- until he feels the telltale tightening in his balls.

Bellamy grabs her hand and pulls it out of his pants. “If you want me to make good on my promise,” he starts, voice low and hoarse and has Clarke surreptitiously rubbing her thighs together, “Then you should probably stop.”

“What’s the matter?” she asks, leaning back against the tree, completely stark naked, “Can’t take what you dish out?” She smirks at him, and when she brings her hand to her mouth to lick the saltiness of him off, Bellamy all but shoves her back against the tree with a growl. His hands are hard on her hips, fingers digger into her skin and she moans raggedly at the pain, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair as he pulls her into a searing kiss.

The tree bark is harsh against her back but she doesn’t care, not when Bellamy is tugging on her hair and sweeping his tongue in her mouth, not when she can feel him, hard and hot against her belly and grinding his palm into her pussy to rev her up once more while sending lightning through her veins.

Their teeth knock together more than once as they damn near devour each other, stealing breaths from lungs and replacing it with something else neither of them want to put a name to. Sex is easy, methodical and clinical, and anything else would just complicate matters. The lines of their bodies overlap with one another and when her nails scratch his scalp, his hips jerk against her and another growl works its way out of his throat.

They pull away with flushed cheeks and heaving chests, and then Clarke is there, making quick work of his pants, undoing them the rest of the way and shoving them off his hips. Without any sort of preamble, she turns around again, bending forward almost all the way and bracing her hands against the rough bark of the tree.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to kill you,” she throws over her shoulder glancing back at him and widening her stance.

Bellamy runs his hand over the generous curve of her ass, his palm heavy and warm on her skin. “No need to tell me twice, Princess,” he huffs, sidling up behind her as her kneads the rotund flesh.

He wraps an arm around her waist for support as he slowly slides his cock through her slick folds, spreading her slickness and feeling the vibrations of her low moan flow through her.

And then, in one quick movement, he thrusts inside her and the both groan out, low and heavy in the still summer air at the feeling of being filled and having her silken cunt around him respectively. He goes as deep as he can go, the hand around her waist pulling her back until his pubic bone presses against her ass.

His free hand cups her breast, flicking over the hardened peak of her nipple and she sucks in a breath. “You’re so gorgeous like this, Princess,” he says, pulling out and thrusting again. “You feel so good. I could spend hours fucking you like this.”

He hears Clarke’s muted whimpers and feels her clench down purposefully on him, drawing him to the edge quickly. One of her hands drops from the tree to rub at her clit, and he moans low in his throat, hips snapping harder against hers and fingers digging so hard in to her hip that it’s surely going to bruise.

“So tight and warm. So good,” he groans, “Always so good, Clarke.”

Every time he thrusts in to her, her breath leaves her in little gasps and she’s pulled her lip into her mouth once more. She’s close, he can tell she’s close, as her muscles clench around him without any rhyme or reason. He speeds up, and drops his hand on top of hers between her thighs. Together they rub frantic little circles into her clit and he only gets to thrust into her a handful of times again, hard and deep, before she’s coming around him with a choked off sigh.

He continues fucking her straight through it, hard and steady, never once faltering in his rhythm or in the steady stream of filth that he murmured to her. Clarke pulls his hand away from clit but tangles their fingers together and presses it against the tree, pulling him closer to her.

He doesn’t last that long and when he feels himself beginning to come, he pulls out almost completely before slamming back into her as far he can go and holding himself there, even as he shudders and groans helplessly in to the night, slumping over her back. It triggers off another orgasm from Clarke, hitting her not quite as hard as the last two, but still taking them both by surprise, especially when she keens loudly, unable to keep it in.

They both freeze as the sharp sound cuts through the night, bouncing off the trees in the forest and glance over at the guards sleeping _right there_.

Neither of them dare to even breathe for almost a full minute and it’s only when a nearby frog croaks do they realise that it’s fine, she didn’t wake them, no one caught them.

Clarke starts to giggle first for some inexplicable reason and then Bellamy joins her. The two of them slide down to the forest floor in hysterics, Clarke all but falling onto his lap and Bellamy banding his free arm around her waist to secure her. She still has his fingers tangled with hers, and she squeezes them when she rests her head against his sweat soaked chest. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, even as they both continue to laugh.

Soon enough, the laughter subsides and they just sit there, panting, while the sweat cools their overheated bodies. Clarke is perfectly content to stay perched on his lap, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear while Bellamy has no problem with just untangling the snarls in her hair, leaning back against the tree.

When they finally do catch their breath, they slowly get dressed, sneaking kisses from the other ever so often. He’s noticed that this has been happening more and more often after their couplings- both of them trying to draw it out for as long as possible- and refuses to read into it. Once he’s shrugged on his jacket and hooked the rifle over his shoulder again, Clarke pulls him in for a slow, long kiss. The type of kiss you give someone when you know it’ll only be a few hours until you’re kissing them again, and Bellamy smoothes her hair back after,

She lies down in her sleeping bag, falling asleep almost immediately and he sets out to finish the rest of his watch, resolutely not thinking about anything that has to do with the bright eyed blonde princess.

When it’s over and another guard takes his place, he settles into his spot beside her. Clarke reaches out and takes his hand, out of sight from everyone else, and he lets her, even squeezing it in reply.

The next morning when he wakes up, the first thing he notices is that she didn’t let go through the entire night.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr at hiddenpolkadots!


End file.
